


Fishing from Cray

by WildcatPacer



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-10
Packaged: 2018-12-26 01:49:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12048804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildcatPacer/pseuds/WildcatPacer
Summary: Katniss must sell herself and have a forced relationship with Cray to feed her family. But only other men can save her......





	1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Propositioning Peacekeepers**

I stand in front of Head Peacekeeper Cray's door for what seems like hours, my heart pounding, the bile threatening to rise in my throat. Unlike other times I have come here, to sell food to the more lax-than-normal Peacekeeper, I carry no hunting bag with me. I am not even in my father's jacket, instead dressed in a gun-metal gray shirt and sweatpants. My hair is long, left unbraided.

I cannot believe I am doing this! But I have no choice. Mother and Prim must eat. And with little luck in procuring game from the woods lately, I am left with no alternative. I finally will my fist to connect with the door's wood.

After a moment, the wrinkled face of Cray appears as the door opens. He blinks in surprise when he sees me. He knows who I am; we have spied each other often enough in the Hob. The surprise morphs into a grin that makes my insides clench. It's more of a sneer, and a leering one at that.

"And what can I do for you, huntress?" he drawls. Cray is also fully aware of my chosen trade; though technically illegal, he has more than once offered to let it slide if only I would grant him more nonconventional forms of 'payment.' Bribery of the highest order, and my pride had always demanded that I rebuff his advances.

Until now.

"I am sure you could do a lot of things for me," I reply in what I hope is my best seductive voice.

Cray blinks in surprise again, before disgusting delight appears on his face. "It's nice to hear you're so….open to suggestions," he purrs, and I wonder if he thinks this is some kind of trick. He glances around us to make sure no one is watching, before opening the door a little more and literally dragging me inside.

I have never been inside Cray's house before. It is as drab and dreary and cold as the man himself. We stop further into the foyer before Cray turns back to face me. He circles a finger in the air and I stare at him blankly, not understanding. Oh, God. Are we doing this now? No talking first? I steel myself to begin stripping, or for him to jump on me. But Cray doesn't move. He repeats the motion again and now I understand what he is saying.  _Twirl for me_.

I spin in a circle lamely, hoping that my bare ability to do even this gives Cray enough of an excuse to throw me out of his house. I have never thought that I was anything to look at, despite coming from physically attractive stock. Nevertheless, Cray seems accepting of what I have shown him and now circles me, examining me from all sides like a zookeeper would an animal. He nods at last.

"Inexperienced, perhaps, but you'll do."

I wonder how he could possibly know this or make such an assumption, given that I know I have had  _no_  sexual experiences.

"I am so glad you finally gave in and came to see me," Cray murmurs in what he must think is a sexy voice; it's actually anything but. Yet I dare not laugh. I muster a shrug.

"It's the heat," I get out. "It makes one do crazy things."

"So can liquor from the Hob," Cray counters. He leans in close enough for me to smell the alcohol on his breath and whispers in my ear. "The things I could show you…."

And then, he suddenly seizes me by the waist. My hunter's instincts are to push him away, but it is too late to turn back now. Resistance would only lead to a beating, if not worse.

Finding purchase on Cray's chest for my hands, I bite the inside of my cheek as the Peacekeeper's own hands begin to wander dangerously low. He gropes my bum - quite accentuated in my gray sweatpants - heavily petting, caressing it in one fluid motion before cupping one cheek. Then the other.

Cray bends his face towards mine, and taking a deep breath, I permit him to kiss me.

I learn quickly that Cray is not a gentle lover. There is no tenderness in his kisses, only roughness, the insatiable need to be the one dominating the activities. His tongue is down my throat before I can make a noise, flicking around my teeth and own tongue like a slippery serpent.

I am thoroughly repulsed. I want to hurl vomit. But I dare not pull away. The only girls Cray will take are the ones who are submissive, who are too weak to stand up for themselves and their dignity. And though I pride myself on being both of those at all other times, I cannot now. Not in this moment. I have to play a part, and I have to play it well. But, to help myself cope, I decide to imagine that I am kissing somebody else, someone who I would  _want_  to kiss, and be kissed by. I conjure an image of the only man who could ever fit that description. Gale.

"Mmmmm….." Closing my eyes and imagining that it is Gale, not Cray, in my arms, I drape my arms around the man's neck and kiss him back. My mouth bumps clumsily against his. Then again, maybe that will keep up the ruse that I am 'inexperienced.'

Suddenly, I feel my one leg being raised to the man's waist. Next second, I am hoisted off my feet and I have no choice but to blindly wrap my legs around something, anything of his; my other senses tell me it must be Cray's waist.

Cray staggers forward and I feel myself bump into something hard - the wall - followed by a shattering of glass. Did we knock something off furniture? I cannot theorize an answer before I feel something else just as hard, now against my front.

But it's not the wall this time. It's…..

I groan, changing the tone to be a sexual one at the last second to hide my displeasure. I summon Gale back into my head, so I can pretend to feel something happy as the hard…. thing thrusts against my thankfully still-clothed center.

"Mmm! Mmm!" The sharp squeals elicited from me are involuntary, in time with Cray's dry-humping of me. I am steeling myself to have this taken to the next level when Cray suddenly slows in his attentions to me. His lips part away from mine, and I feel my feet returned to Earth. He releases me fully. I open my eyes.

Cray is looking away, breathing hard so that his chest heaves with each intake of air. I notice a huge bulge in his pants, one that - with each breath - seems to shrink.

I become worried that I have done something wrong, something to displease him. I jump when his eyes suddenly meet mine and he smiles that stupid grin again.

"You're learning. I am pleased with what you have allowed. I would like to see you again, Ms. Everdeen. I want to take you to bed. Tomorrow night. Midnight."

I nod. "Yes, sir," I rasp.

It takes all of my control to walk out of the house and sufficiently enough down the street before I break into a run.


	2. GoodNight and Thank You Whoever

**Chapter 2: Good Night and Thank You Whoever**

With shaking hands, I apply the lipstick. Fix the signature braid my mother has always done for me. Slip into the pretty blue dress from Mother's merchant days in the apothecary shop. 

I do not recognize the woman that stares back at me in the mirror. I am no longer a child…. then again, I have not been a child in a few weeks.  And tonight will only remind me of my new status.

I look back at Mother and Prim, sleeping peacefully in the large bed they have taken to sharing. Will they miss me while I'm gone tonight? I sure hope not. What will they say, when they see the bag of coins come breakfast time? Mother might suspect just what it took for me to get it, but even if she does figure it out, she probably won't say. Prim - poor, sweet Prim! - won't know a thing. She'll only be happy to have a steady stream of food for the first time in weeks, blissfully unaware of what her sister gave away to make it so….

I step out into the steamy night and force my feet to walk in the direction of the Head Peacekeeper's house. It's in the center of town, so quite a trek from where I live in the Seam, but leaving now might guarantee that I am one of the first desperate girls at his door.

I stumble in my high-heeled boots and adjust the garter high up on my thigh, just under my dress - both also borrowed items from my mother. What will Cray say, if he does pick me? Oh, who am I kidding? He won't say anything. He said enough in our last meeting, what I have taken to calling "the interview." He'll jump right on me, probably, and do more to me than he did in our dry test run yesterday.

Just imagining what might happen is too horrible. That, combined with the cold, stings my eyes with tears and soon I am choking on the air I breathe. Hyperventilating is only a degree removed at this point. What if he likes what he gets from me, even if I know I will get nothing but a bag of coins in return? Will I become his slave, his mistress? Will he force me to marry him?

I can now see Cray's house in the distance and attempt to regain command over my feet. God, you would think I had visited him already! That I was returning home, doing what other girls have called the "walk of shame" - when a man has screwed you so hard that your legs are sore and tired.

The sudden light blinds me and I jump in fright, my body tightening like the animals that I hunt when they prepare to flee.

I have been halted in front of the bakery, only yards away from Cray's door.

"Katniss?" the voice is gentle, and even against the harsh light from the kitchen beyond, I stare with dead eyes into the face of Peeta Mellark. Not him again! He is smiling softly, as if he is pleased to see me. "What are you doing out here?"

He looks me up and down, and suddenly the smile is gone from his face. He sees the dress, the clumsy make-up job, the high boots that don't quite fit on me….

Then his eyes shift down the street and I want to cry. He knows.

"Katniss, no." he breathes.

Now would be the time to run. But I tarry in indecision for a moment too long, and have only just turned when I feel Peeta's hand on my arm.

"Let me go!" I gasp out, threatening to drown in the tears about to appear in my voice.

"No, please, no…." Peeta's voice is just as hoarse, and I am startled to wonder if he is crying too. But I don't have much time to find out as Peeta drags me into the alleyway beside his door.

We stay in the shadows there, catching our breaths. Only now am I aware that Peeta's hands are about my waist, his fingers brushing the small of my back. The nerves in my fingertips signal to my weary brain that my hands are now pressed against his chest. I stare up into his face, my expression slightly agape.

It seems as though we are frozen in time and it allows me to better examine every detail of Peeta Mellark. The blond curls. Strong chin. I peer closer, gazing into his eyes - eyes as blue as a summer sky…..

I can feel Peeta drawing closer to me as well. My eyes grow heavy. My mind seems to have switched off, as I cannot find the words to tell myself to stop now before…. we…. kiss….

Our lips are mere inches apart now. I am only just aware that his one hand has now moved and is absentmindedly playing with my braid, when a banging sound breaks the spell around us. Oddly still staying in our awkward embrace, Peeta and I peer around the corner to see Cray's door open, its light illuminating at least half a dozen girls, desperate like myself. The Peacekeeper glances up and down the street furtively. He sees the Mellarks' door left open, but must not think anything of it. I can tell he does not see us. Yet, he stays where he is….. as if he's waiting for something….

My throat catches. Is he waiting for me?

He must be, for after a moment, seeing I am not coming, he sighs and picks the next best girl, swiftly bringing her inside and slamming the door. The other girls stumble off into the night.

No. That was my one last chance and now it's gone! I won't come home with a bag full of coins for Mother and Prim. We will starve. We will die. My baby sister will die...

Now the spell is really broken, as I push against Peeta's chest angrily; he readily lets me go. "What do you think you were doing?" I hiss. "I needed that!"

Peeta shakes his head determinedly. "Katniss, Cray is the last thing you need. Trust me."

"How would you know?" I bite accusingly, and to me, it is more than a fair question. How  _would_  he know? He doesn't know what's it like to starve. To feel there are no options left.

"Oh, believe me, I do. I've seen the girls leaving his place after their 'visits.' He's a  _monster_." And I have never heard such venom in Peeta's voice, a boy known for his kind and sweet reputation.

Terror fills me, and I almost want to interrogate him for more details. What has he seen, coming out of that wretched house? Girls limping? Bloodied? Bruised? The only fear outweighing Cray's touch would have been what I felt like afterwards, or what might have been done to cause it.

"Wait here," and Peeta suddenly leaves me to go back inside, through the bakery door that leads to the alleyway. After a minute, he returns with a bag full of coins and presses it into my hand. I stare at it dumbly.

"Take it," he prompts, trying and failing to snap me out of my shock. I soon do, as my face hardens in indignation. I am reminded of Peeta coming to my defense in school and it only fuels my anger.

"Do you think I want your  _pity_?" I spit. He blinks, perplexed. "I don't need you to save me!" I attempt to fling the money back at him, but Peeta stays my hand, forcing me to drop it to my side. His eyes are pleading.

"Katniss, if you won't help yourself, at least let me help you!" He begs. "I won't let you die!"

I stare at him. That I am dying is of no dispute here; I know it myself. I've seen it lurking behind the hungry eyes of my mother and sister. No, what is more debatable is Peeta's claim. Will he really? Will he  _really_  not let me die? No one else has said that to me before, because no one else has  _cared_  enough to. Another thought strikes me: does Peeta Mellark  _care_  for me?

My eyes drift down to the money bag still clutched in my hand. My incredulity and confusion suddenly boil down into rage as I am reminded of what this bag means, what it symbolizes. This was supposed to be my earnings from Cray! Received after making a great sacrifice! I refuse to let this boy just hand it to me for free, when I have done nothing to get it! Though he is so sweet to do so…. No, I am not charity! I have to earn my keep.

And if not from Cray, then, at this point, anyone will do.

This is my last thought before I cast the bag to the ground and roughly grab Peeta's groin.

His cry out for help is muffled as I fiercely press my lips to his. My mouth slides against his with extreme incoordination. His mouth opens to mine in that brief moment before a sure attempt to spring free, and I shove my tongue deep within before he can, refusing to release my prey. It's awkward, I know, but I'm hoping that he knows as little as I do about making love.

Peeta finally breaks the kiss roughly, pushing my groping hand away. "No!" he croaks out, the word sent out into the night like a bullet after it has stayed jammed in the barrel of a gun. He lowers his voice, which trembles now. "You don't have to do that. I don't need that, and I don't want it."

"The fuck you don't," I snarl. "I know what the boys in school want. What Cray wants. I know what any man would pay for!" I stalk towards him, the predator in me just warming up, backing him into a literal corner of his house where he has nowhere to run.

"No…." but his protest is silenced by my hand ripping apart the waistband so hard, the clothing itself rips in two, at the seam right down the middle, almost perfectly in half at the zipper. Peeta releases a startled cry as I plunge my hand down his now-revealed underwear. I move in to kiss him again to silence his calls. I seize his manhood, expanding like a creature all its own despite his terror. I rub him faster, pumping my hand intensely and deliberately along the shaft again and again and again, willing the organ to grow. As I do so, I push my body up against his, rubbing my breasts along his toned muscles, my hips rocking into his pelvis. I have no idea what Peeta Mellark would want in an unforced sexual encounter, what he would like to see in a woman, but maybe this will calm him.

I liberate his lips from my own, his crotch from my hands and he takes a sharp breath. He is already traumatized; I can see it in the new way he looks at me, as if he has never seen me before.

But I know he can't feel as shamed as I do, as I drop swiftly to my knees before him and throw down his underwear, allowing his member to spring free from whence it came, like a snake ready to strike. It certainly is eager to be pleasured, even if its master is still not.

Taking a deep breath, I lean forward and take him in my mouth. Cray and I never did this, so I feel I have nothing to offer or can't even manage much of what I do have. But judging from Peeta's reaction, it is enough - more than enough - to send him tumbling over the edge.

"Ohmmmmm! Ummmmmm!" Peeta claps his hand over his mouth, eyes wide as saucers and staring up into the night sky above us, willing to look anywhere but at me. Trusting him to keep himself quiet now, I begin to work my lips along his shaft - up and down, up and down, sucking him in as far as he will go, until his tip is touching the back of my throat. With every motion, my head bobs right along with his penis.

My hands now free, I gently cup his balls in my hands, holding them in the way that I might bring water to my lips at the well when no bucket is to be found. I massage them, fondle them, mold them in my palms, for the first time letting my actions become tender in their execution.

That is what begins the transformation, as I begin to forget why I am doing this in the first place. No longer does my appalled brain remind myself that I  _have_  to do this, to earn the money Peeta has given away to me so freely. I begin to tell myself that I actually  _want_  to do this. I want to pleasure this man who stands before me.

But why? Is it because he is not Cray?  _That_  is most certainly true, even in the texture of his skin now activating my taste buds. The texture of the baker's son is rather surprising - smooth, warm, yet soft, despite the hardness of the organ it encases. I taste the faint hints of flour, even yeast; both smells seem to seep out of Peeta's pores. The smell of freshly baked bread….

Is it because of the kindness he has shown me, and I feel the only kindness I can possibly give him in return is a good blow? Is this to thank him? My thoughts return to the taste of him and I close my eyes, lolling my tongue out to lazily lick the upper reaches of his shaft. I know I am enjoying this  _far_  too much, and I don't care.

"Mmmmm…" That sound definitely came from me, not from Peeta, a muffled rumbling sound of contentment deep within my vocal chords that is somewhat blocked by my maw being filled with cock. I let one hand off of his balls and slink it around him, running it down his handsome butt cheeks in the way Cray showed me yesterday. I caress it heavily, before cupping it, squeezing it.

Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain as hands grasp my head. I let out a strangled noise, afraid someone has caught us, the baker's witch of a wife perhaps. But no, it's Peeta's hands weaving themselves into my hair, nails digging into my scalp. He holds my skull in place as he begins to hump his pelvis frantically into my face. Down on my knees, I can see his legs trembling - a vibration that moves up into his center and along his member so that it seems to hum and pulse in my mouth. My eyes pop open and I panic as I begin to realize for the first time that I have no idea what is about to happen. Sure, we had been lectured on Planned Parenthood in school (lessons I obviously learned  _real_  well. Yeah, right!) but ejaculation after oral sex was believed to be a concept better left untaught. For the first time in this whole ordeal, I want to free myself, except now I can't. What should I do? I breathe through my nose heavily. I return to my work. Oh, well. At this point, there is nothing left I can do but give Peeta  _one_ ….. _more_ ….. _suck_ …. Whatever happens next, just let it come…..

And come it does, all at once. Peeta gives one final, violent shudder, then releases himself into my mouth. A torrent of thick, creamy liquid gushes into my mouth, quickly flooding it. I nearly choke, gag, before I finally get my throat to work again. If I had not forced myself upon Peeta, I know what he would want me to do now. So I obey. I do as he would bid and gulp down every last drop of what he gives me. The strange substance is the texture of milk, but does not  _taste_  like milk. It tastes salty…..

When the last of Peeta's liquid offering has disappeared down my gullet, I slowly extract myself from his manhood. Peeta does not immediately flee, as I expected he might when I was finished with him, instead standing stock-still, allowing me to examine my handiwork.

The only traces signaling that I have been with him are his still-stiff, but rapidly shrinking penis, and the smeared red lipstick print ringing the middle of his shaft.

The only sounds in the night are those of my panting and Peeta's whimpers. I shakily stand and finally have the courage to look him in the eyes, only to discover Peeta is staring at me too, though warily.

My face hardens as I now grasp his shoulders, pushing him up against the wall of the bakery. Peeta's eyes fill with terror, as he takes my expression to be done out of anger and that therefore I must not have been pleased with the offering he gave me - neither the money nor the extorted cum. I give him no time to speak, as the lines in my face soften just slightly before I press my lips to his in one last kiss.

This kiss is as forceful as the other two I've bestowed - I want him to taste himself on my mouth - but at the same time, there is a tenderness present, buried beneath the surface. Despite how Peeta's whole being is tense against my own, I move and twist my lips deeper into his, the muscles in my jaw screaming in protest from working overtime.

I feel Peeta's fingers gently brushing my jawline, as if he wants to cup my chin in his hands, and I jump. Wait…. is he finally responding? Does he mean to kiss me back? I do not wait to find out, nor do I want to, so I spring away.

Guilt crashes over me at last like a wave as I stumble out of the alley, not even saying goodbye to Peeta and barely remembering to take the money bag with me. I should feel satisfied, proud even, for I did what I came here to do after all - earn and receive payment while accepting no handouts. Instead, I feel nothing but shame. I have ruined that poor boy's life! And mine!

Little do I know what the implications behind my actions will lead to.


	3. Smooched Unexpectedly

**Chapter 3: Smooched Unexpectedly**

The bag of game lies heavy on my shoulders as I keep pace with Gale through the woods. We got a good haul today. It should make for a decent trade in the Hob.

We finally emerge from the treeline and approach the fence that marks the official border of District 12. It is supposed to be electrified 24/7, but the power has not run through it in years. Crawling under the barbed wire has been a piece of cake since I was a pre-teen.

I set the bag down to prepare to crawl under the fence now.

"I can take over the daily snare run, Gale. Perhaps we'll catch some rabbits. And then -" I am cut off as Gale suddenly takes my face in his hands and kisses me firmly on the mouth.

I am completely unprepared. You would think that, after listening to Gale and his teachings for so long, I would know everything there was to know about his lips - which I now register taste like sweet oranges. Or how his hands, which can complete even the most complicated of snares, could so easily entrap me, as he winds them about my waist.

"Uhhhmmmmmmm..." I think I make this sort of choked squeak in the back of my throat, but I do not pull away. Curious, I close my eyes and kiss him back. After a long moment, he draws away.

"I had to do that. At least once." And then he is gone.

I stay sitting in the meadow for a good while afterwards, pondering over how I feel about Gale's kiss, whether I liked it or resented it. Another thought strikes me: can I imagine myself as the wife of a miner? Gale is already working there part-time, and when he comes of age, he will have to work even deeper underground, as did his father before him. Could I be married to him - my best friend - as he puts himself in danger every day; have his children and raise them as I wait to see if he comes home, having survived the mines for another work shift?

I don't know. I just don't know...


	4. You Love Me? OK

**Chapter 4: You Love Me? OK**

It is a quiet morning in the Seam. Mother and Prim are out for the day, on a house call to see a patient.

Suddenly, the phone rings. I pick it up before the first ring is through, so as not to wake the kids.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Katniss. It's Darius." Darius Pontipee is a ginger-haired, friendly Peacekeeper who is known as a bit of a flirt in the District.

"Hi. What's up?" My response nearly comes out in a croak. The last time I interacted with a Peacekeeper, it ended fairly badly.

"I was wondering if you had a free minute to meet me at the Peacekeeper barracks."

A part of me is suspicious of going over there, especially since Darius has not given me any details.

But another part of me - an excited part - urges me on. After a brief internal struggle between suspicious and excited, excited wins. Darius has suggested it will only take a minute. Besides, this isn't a date.

"I'll be right over."

I leave a note down on the front counter, that simply says I have stepped outside for a bit and will be back soon. I then steal down the back alley of the bakery, and make my way down to the Peacekeeper barracks. Darius is waiting for me outside.

"There's something I want to show you," he smiles when he sees me.

Curious, I follow him down into the barracks. We enter the hallway lined with doors that I vaguely remember from when I visited John, before walking through it and heading down a stairwell. We must be heading underground, but what would Darius have to show me here?

At last, we come to a gate. Darius produces a key and unlocks it, before then opening the door right behind this gate. He flicks on the lights once we are inside.

We are in a small locker room. On cubbies lining the walls, there are bulky suits that look like the ones worn by astronauts of old in space; I remember reading about them in school. Darius hands me one that looks my size.

"Put this on. You can wear it over your clothes. It's for your protection."

I find myself smiling at him, amused, before doing as he says. Darius also dons a suit.

"Ready?" he asks. His voice comes through in an artificial, echoey way from the helmet on his head. I nod through my helmet.

Opening the door on the other side of the locker room, he and I enter a metallic world. The room is long and vertical - it could probably fit several Seam homes comfortably inside. At the far end are what clearly look like targets. I look to my right and see automatic weapons and guns lined up on a rack.

This is a shooting range.

"I thought I'd show you where I usually perform target practice, and what I normally shoot with," Darius grins at my amazed reaction.

I turn to him with a smirk, amused. "Aren't only Peacekeepers allowed to use guns?"

"Well, since you are so proficient with bows, I think we can make an exception in your case," Darius waves away, handing me a semi-automatic. "I trust you."

For the next hour or so, Darius and I practice our shooting skills. He's right, of course - guns are not all that different from bows and arrows. As we fire round after round, we get to talking.

"How's your mother's business?" Darius asks at one point.

I sigh as I let another bullet fly. "It could be a lot better." I don't know what power this man holds over me that makes me open up, but I do. "Mother and Prim have been... struggling with their finances lately. Sales have been down from what they used to be, and taxes are only going up, year after year. Keeping the business open and sending Prim and me to school has made money tight."

Darius is staring at me, a concerned and sympathetic look on his face. After a moment of silence, he makes the most stunning offer:

"I don't know how much it would help, but I can always give you a cut of my salary monthly. If it would help pay the bills."

I hate owing people, which is why I almost always refuse acts of charity, out of guardedness and pride. But what Darius is offering to do - a Capitol official setting aside money for a citizen of his District! - is astonishing. My heart bursting with emotion from his generosity, I turn to him with an incredulous stare, even as I accept the donation. "Thank you," I whisper.

Darius smiles.

We are still smiling when we get back into the locker room, laughing as we take off our helmets. Our eyes meet. A pause. And then, with no words, we move to close the gap between us. With a bump, the rest of our bulky space suits both mercifully and yet maddeningly get in our way. We laugh awkwardly. Our suits keep brushing up against each other. As we try to close the gap again. And again.

By now, I have thrown all caution to the wind. Darius's offer is so overwhelming, that I just have to -

"Uh... uh..." Breathing hard with the effort to reach him, I at last seize the neck seal of his helmet and pull his face to mine, fiercely pressing my lips to his at last. "Mmmmmmm... Mmmmmmmmm..." We kiss with our mouths wide open, with heated tongue.

Minutes later, we have shedded the rest of our space-like suits and left them in heaps in the locker room. Up in Darius's dimly lit room in the barracks, I back him up towards his bed. Seductively, I slip of my black shirt and let it fall away, revealing my bare back. I grab at Darius's clothes and undress him, our bodies undulating towards each other in anticipation, like two animals impatient to become engaged in heat. I capture his lips with mine, my arms draping lazily around his neck, and we fall back onto the mattress. Fingers framing his face as I passionately kiss him, I let this man take me to bed. We begin to make love.

Later that night, the barracks cafeteria is deserted, as Darius and I sneak in to grab a midnight snack. Everyone else has gone to sleep. Sitting directly across from me, Darius observes barely above a whisper, "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. You kill me."

My eyes lazily meet his. There's a silent challenge, a dare, in his eyes, and I decide to accept it. Dropping the piece of chicken I'm holding, I then deliberately push my tray of food aside, so hard that it skirts off the edge of the table and onto the floor with a CRASH. A crash I do not hear as I climb onto the table, and slink - on my hands and knees - like a cat to the man across from me. Darius leans back in his chair, surprised and impressed, before I seize him by the scruff of his neck, and pull his lips into a desperate kiss.

I slip off of the table and into his lap, straddling his hips. Briefly breaking our kiss as I get into position, I wrap my arms around the handsome Peacekeeper and kiss him again. Darius stands, taking me with him as his hands that are firmly about my waist slink up underneath the fabric of my shirt. I do not have time to fold my legs around his torso before he is leaning me, laying me back onto the table with a small clatter. My one hand heavily caresses up and down his strong back while my other hand plays at the nape of his neck. I open my mouth wide to him, and he kisses me sensually, his tongue invading my maw as I make quick work of divesting him of his shirt. Helping him pull it over his head and cast it aside, and seizing each new reveal of his bare skin as I do so, I let Darius settle between my spread-eagled legs. We have sex once more, right on that table.

Still later, Darius has carried my naked form back up to his bed. Our naked bodies, sweating after making love yet again, lie pressed together. My one leg is draped over his, peeking out from amongst the blankets. I am partially on top of him, my hand resting on his chest, my head nestled in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Darius's fingers absentmindedly dance in my hair.

"You OK?" he murmurs.

"Yeah," I sigh breathlessly with a nod. "I'm fine. It's just..." I cannot even find the thoughts behind the words which I want to express, my one hand reaching out in thin air as if I could pluck the words from such an expanse. I give up.

"Yeah, I know," Darius sighs.

* * *

I do the walk of shame that night in my large overcoat, back towards the Seam. I am crying, my eyes filling with tears of shame over what I have just done.

It doesn't help that I hear someone pursuing me through the quiet, deserted streets.

"Katniss, wait!" Darius's voice pings out a lot closer than I expected as he spins me around by the shoulders.

"WILL YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?!" I wail, refusing to let myself be taken in and then hurt.

Darius just hands me a note. "You don't have to see me again if you just read it."

I glare at him, scowling, as I snatch the letter and tear it open. "This is so fucked up…."

"Yeah, just read it," Darius sighs.

"Dear Katniss:" I stop at the salutation, stunned that it is addressed to me. "I know that you have been seeing Cray….." I raise my eyes over the paper to glance at Darius almost coldly. "I thought you could get out of it on your own, but….."

"…. It's OK to ask for help. I love you!" Darius finishes.

His declaration hangs in the silent winter air for a moment. "I wrote that a week ago," he informs me helpfully.

I frown in almost disbelief. "You wrote that a week ago?" Why didn't he give it to me sooner?

"I was trying to be romantic."

I glance at the letter again, then back up at him. My eyes swim with tears and my throat constricts. "You love me?" I croak out. At his nod, I decide to take the plunge. "OK."

I fling myself into his arms. Throwing his arms around his neck so that my hands which still grip the letter splay across his back, I kiss him full on the mouth. Darius presses his lips into mine as he kisses me in return, slipping his hands about my slim waist and pulling me flush against him. Closing my eyes, I lose myself with him in our own world, amidst the twinkling street and Christmas lights of the Seam, and the stars in the nighttime sky.


	5. Reaping's Revolving Door

**Chapter 5: Reaping's Revolving Door**

I am Reaped as the female tribute of District 12 for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. After Mother and Primrose wish me goodbye, I get quite a cast of characters wishing me farewell.

The first is Cray, who looks positively dismayed that he is losing his best whore. "Win, huntress. Come back alive." His face turns into a snarl. "Even if you have been screwing other men behind my back!"

He roughly kisses me, forcing his tongue down my throat. I scream and try to push him away, but he throws me down on the cushioned seat and straddles me with ease. Pushing my blue Reaping dress up over my head, my panties down past my thighs and to my ankles, he slams his bloated penis inside my vagina and begins to fuck me - rape me - violently. He orgasms within me, and after another furious kiss, he pulls out and leaves.

Sniffling, I redress myself, but barely in time. When the door to my holding cell opens again to reveal Gale, I shrink back startled, before I fling myself into his arms. Pulling me back, Gale kisses me once, gently, letting his tongue slip in between the split of my lips.

"Come home, Catnip."

Peeta is next. Because he is a kind and innocent boy, when he kisses me on the mouth, I let him grope my ass and feel me up. I even slip down the bodice of my blue dress so that Peeta can take the nipples of my bare breasts into his mouth between kisses. After all, I did sexually attack and pleasure him. Might as well let him return the favor before I die.

"I have loved you since we were five years old. If you win, will you marry me?" And he asks it so sweetly that I say Yes, accept his proposal of marriage on the spot.

Darius is last of all. "I think I'll miss you most of all," I say. We share a passionate kiss, just like the ones in the Peacekeeper barracks and later in the street.

"Goodbye, Katniss," Darius whispers when we break apart. "I love you and will think of you always." He then escorts me to the train.

* * *

I win the 74th Hunger Games, becoming District 12's third Victor. When I return home, Cray is dismissed from his post and replaced by Head Peacekeeper. Having become filthy rich from winning the Games, I never have to sell myself again to feed my family. We will no longer starve.

I enter a polygamous marriage (those are still allowed in Twelve) with Gale Hawthorne, Peeta Mellark and Darius Pontipee. A Seam hunter, a Merchant baker and a Peacekeeper. I have one child by each of them and try to love all three of my husbands equally. My husbands who saved me from Cray's clutches.


End file.
